


Jakes from Victorville

by Polly_Phemus (orphan_account)



Series: Everything's Jake [5]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Fighting, Knives, Multi, Oral Sex, Prostitution, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-28
Updated: 2017-07-28
Packaged: 2018-12-08 02:37:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 931
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11637186
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/Polly_Phemus
Summary: Not all Jakes are nice. Some are downright violent.Tagged for violence and attempted non-con because Dean has to fight off a couple of Jakes.





	Jakes from Victorville

Glendale was weird. A city in the middle of a bunch of other cities. Dean knew Los Angeles was the ultimate car city but he spent the entire time worried about Baby, since Angelenos seemed to view driving as a competitive sport. And the weather...what the hell was going on with the weather? He had his routine for dressing and arming himself in February, but those protocols, as Dad would call them, didn't apply in a place where it seemed to be late spring all the time.

And every hotel in town was a Best Western or something like it. Places with hallways and elevators where a man could get trapped and not even be able to keep an eye on his car.

All in all, despite the extra time and gas miles, Dean was relieved to get the hell out of that particular Dodge and drive up to Victor Valley where the vamp nest actually was, despite the victims all being respectable Glendalians. Glendalites? Whatever, it was southern California and even the vampires commuted. 

Dean was pretty sure the nest was in Apple Valley, so he got a motel room in Victorville: bigger town, more of a chance to blend in while he figured out what the hell was going on. He called in and Dad approved his plan, then proudly told him that Sam had automatically qualified for the first round of a scholarship, just by doing a good job on his PSATs.

Dean had taken the PSATs. He'd used the bubbles on his test form to sketch out warding sigils. It got him a score of 850. He was glad Sammy'd done okay, but he had no idea what practical value it would have. Dad seemed pleased, though, but Dean figured it was unlikely that he'd tell Sam that. Probably scowl at him and have him dig out the next grave.

But Dad and Sammy where hundreds of miles east and Dean was his own man. He didn't have any actual government-issued ID, but he'd been over twenty-one for several weeks now and Dad had even entrusted him with the Impala, getting by on a Dodge Dart in Dean's absence.

Dean knew he was expected to deliver in exchange for the freedom of the open road and the use of the Impala. Dad had probably figured the Glendale insurance company with the big, scary problem would pony up big for Dean's services; Dean wasn't so sure. Out of sight, out of mind was always the way things went with their kind of trouble and the vamps being in a different county gave the insurance company nine kinds of what Dean understood to be "plausible deniability." An excuse not to even try to pay.

He used a credit card identifying himself as William Holiday to book a room. His immediate needs were taken care of, but Dad would be expecting him to come back with money, so he decided to see what he could rustle up in town on that score before tackling the bigger problem in the morning.

He found a dive with pool tables and maybe even a backroom poker game, nothing about it to separate it from any of a thousand dives across the US and Canada, and got to work. Within two hours he was up $200 without even asking about card games, which was when two guys approached him.

They wanted to take turns in the alley and while Dean hadn't done any outdoor work of the kind they were proposing, the bills they flashed at him went along way toward silencing any bitching his inner voice might've done about the proposition.

But that didn't mean Dean was totally lacking in self-preservation. He got down on his knees for the first man, all senses on high alert. The guy, surprisingly, didn't hesitate when Dean pulled out a condom, though of course the Jake had to say, "Don't know where this whore's mouth has been" even as he rolled it on. More words like that followed and the guy was done in less than three minutes. 

Which was when Jake Two made his move. Dean wasn't sure what Jake Two wanted that made him try to attack Dean, maybe just the violence itself, but Dean was plenty ready for him. Jake Two had approached him from behind with a knife; managed to slice through his shirts and across his back before Dean's instincts took over. Dean figured that being on his knees in an alley must've slowed him up some, but he wasn't John Winchester's son for nothing. He had Jake Two dropped and unconscious on the cement before Jake One even knew what had happened. Jake One wasn't any harder to deal with.

Dean kicked them when they were down, not to be an asshole but to make sure he wasn't followed, and took their money before hightailing it back to his motel. Fortunately he'd gone on foot, but he took the precaution of persuading the night manager, a middle-aged woman who was not immune to Dean's charms, to let him park the Impala out back, out of sight, just in case.

He managed to bandage the cut: long but shallow, if he hadn't been solo, he'd've gotten Sammy to stitch it for him (Sammy was neater). His knuckles were faster, easier work. He settled in with a bottle of Old Crow and counted his money. $1,434. Not insurance money good, but not bad.

And, not that he hadn't known it already, Dean had it affirmed: he could take care of himself.


End file.
